In Good Company
by Ara Nelson
Summary: A few days before Christmas during second year, young Remus spends a quiet morning with his parents on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate, comparing a few of the differences between such mornings at home and at school.


**In Good Company**

**Disclaimer:** Familiar characters, settings, events, and concepts all belong to J.K. Rowling; I do not profit from this piece.

Note: In 1972, December's only full moon was on the night of December 20th. Remus would be a second year at Hogwarts, if you go with the idea that the Marauders began there in September of 1971.

* * *

It was snowing. There had not been very much snow yet, not here. Now, however, there was a light but steady sprinkling of it, the flakes occasionally caught in a brief bit of breeze, swirling like little white whirlwinds against the warming sky. The sun was still just rising now, casting pink and yellow light across the horizon, slowly making the darker shades of night fade. It was so beautiful, the early morning sun glinting on the thin layer of snow like that…so perfect for the Christmas season.

She paused in her thoughts, tapping each finger on the weathered countertop as she counted it out…if today was the twenty-first, then Christmas was – one, two, three, four – four days away. She knew of course – she had counted it out before – but it did not hurt to figure it out once again.

Christmas…she had asked, but nobody would be coming over. Oh well…it would probably not be a good year to have visitors or to make visits anyway. Just a small family affair this year – just her, her husband, and their son – but it had been small the year before, and several years even before that.

Her gaze shifted to the window again, lighting on the little pot plants on the sill and the yellow checked curtains for a moment before catching once again the snow and sunlight. The sky high overhead was still a deep blue-black, a few stars faintly glinting, but near the ground it was light and airy, tinged a kind of melting orange.

"Mum?"

Her son's unsteady voice sounded from the living room on the opposite side of the wall, and Mrs. Lupin jolted to action, leaning in to look at him, "I'll be just a moment, Remus. Are you all right?"

He nodded from his place on the sofa, though she could tell from the expression on his face that he was wishing she'd have been ready the moment he called. The night had not been anything terribly out of the ordinary, but still he looked deathly pale and rather miserable and exhausted.

"I'm nearly finished," she gave him a smile, "Chocolate will be something nice right now."

She went back to the kitchen, and then silently poured hot water from the kettle into the powder already in two mugs, fetching a pitcher of milk from the pantry where it had been kept nicely cold with a permanent cooling spell. "It's nearly done," she called, taking the milk back to the large cupboard and then reaching onto the high shelf above the stove for a block of chocolate. She broke off a piece, stirring it into one of the mugs, "Are you still all right?"

"Yes," her son called back.

"Good," Mrs. Lupin picked up both mugs, walking into the living room, her pale blue slippers padding on the beige carpet. The sun had finally begun to reach this side of the house, streaming in through the larger windows, though rather blocked by the small Christmas tree. It glittered a little on the handfuls of silver tinsel, making it sparkle. She sat down on the sofa next to her son, handing him one of the steaming mugs, "There now. How's this?"

"Thank you," Remus held the mug in both hands to keep it steady, blowing into it before taking a noisy swallow. He gave her a weak smile while licking some of the hot chocolate from his lip, "It's good." After a few more sips he let himself lean into his mother's side, still warming his hands by keeping them around the mug, "I like yours best. Madame Pomfrey gets it, if I ask, but…well, this is better."

"I'm glad it helps," Mrs. Lupin reached over to ruffle his light brown hair a bit. The smell of shampoo clung to it, and it was still rather soft…like a little boy's, except that Remus was not so little anymore. Twelve seemed so much older than eleven. She still remembered New Year's Day of last year, when he had still seemed so small, small enough almost to pull onto her lap. Not so now.

"You're getting so much older," she commented aloud while brushing her hand through his hair again, looking down to see him breathing into his hot chocolate.

Remus gave her a quizzical look, slowly drawing his feet up onto the sofa and trying to get comfortable. His healing scratches and bites still stung and itched, and his dad had forgotten socks this morning. He pushed his bare feet between the sofa cushions, thinking blearily that he did not feel very grown-up at the moment, crammed onto the living room couch with his mother, drinking hot chocolate at daybreak.

His mother kissed his temple, carefully putting an arm around his shoulders, "I mean it. Going to school, doing things, growing up."

Her son only leaned further into her side, gazing rather dully at the Christmas tree in front of the windows. The lights on it blurred together as Remus stared, and he took another sip of chocolate, sucking on his lip a bit afterwards, "Perhaps."

"I remember last Christmas," Mrs. Lupin reached over to pull the quilt over his shoulders, patting it into place, "It was the first time we'd seen you since you started school, and you were so glad to be home. You liked school, but I do not think you were as happy there then as you are now. You've figured out which subjects you like, made friends…that's all very good."

Remus nodded a little, and the room went silent as his mother rubbed his shoulder in slow circles while he drifted in and out of sleep. She and his father had always done that: one of them or the other or both sitting with him on the sofa or near his bed until he was finally sound asleep or simply mentioned that he would be fine without them. School was wonderful, and he knew he was incredibly lucky to go, but there were certain things about being home that he missed.

"Remus," his mother was squeezing his shoulder just a bit, "I'm going to fetch your dad some tea."

Remus nodded a little, taking advantage of his mother's open spot on the couch to lie down. From his new position he could see the familiar stacks of magazines shoved against the wall under the window, the shifting paintings of pale summer flowers on the walls, stray books and teacups on the end tables. He heard his mother bustling about in the kitchen again, now humming bits of Christmas carols, and his dad's feet coming up the basement stairs. There was the sound of running water in the bathroom, and someone putting things away in the hall closet, and then his parents talking as they moved from the kitchen to the living room.

"'Lo, Remus," his father came into the room, looking rather tired as he stood behind the sofa. He reached over to tousle his son's hair a bit, "Good morning."

"Good morning," Remus returned, forcing himself to be just a bit more awake and watching as his father sat down on the floor in order to be eye level with him while he was lying on the couch.

His mother followed his dad, handing a wispily steaming cup to him, "Here's your tea, dear."

"Thank you," Mr. Lupin accepted the large teacup, putting both hands around it as he leaned back against the end table behind him. His wife pulled an extra pillow from the end of sofa so that there was room for her to sit there, once again absently brushing her fingers through her son's hair, "I didn't put any milk in that."

"Well, _Accio milk_ then," Mr. Lupin rather tiredly picked up his wand and pointed it towards the kitchen, readily catching the small glass pitcher when it rushed into the room and pouring a liberal amount of milk into his tea.

Mrs. Lupin uttered an irritated sigh, though she was grinning just a bit, "You know I hate it when you summon things from the next room. It's not as though you have very far to go."

"Is there something you want?" Mr. Lupin raised his eyebrows, picking up his wand again and holding it out to her. He looked at his son, noting that Remus looked both annoyed and amused, "Or you?"

"No," Remus answered, shutting his eyes again. There were plenty of things he would like, actually – not to have anymore mornings like this, or at least to spend every full moon at home instead of at school, to have some definite idea of what school would be like when he returned after the holiday, not to mention the boxed set of Crawan Brinly books, or at least the first two or three (written at the top of his Christmas list in letters just slightly bigger than the rest) and a red and gold Gryffindor scarf (but only because James and Sirius, and even Peter had been pestering him about when he'd finally get one). His thoughts were interrupted by an impatient tapping on the kitchen window, and his father got up from the floor, muttering something about the early morning post.

"Christmas greetings," Mr. Lupin walked back into the living room, flicking through a small pile of envelopes and handing most to his wife, "A letter from your sister, one from my parents…January's _Herbs for Home and Health_ mail order," he held out an envelope to his son, "Something for you, Remus."

It was a Christmas card from Sirius, quite obviously one nicked from the supply his mother probably sent out, judging by the rather gaudy silver-coloured foil on the black and white card. _Have a happy Christmas_, Remus managed to read, _Hope you're feeling well by then; see you at school. _

"That was nice," his mother read the card when he was finished with it, setting it on the end table. A deep line appeared between her eyebrows not half a moment later, and she picked up the card again, "Remus, why does he say…"

"He knows," Remus suddenly felt rather sick at being reminded, and he shifted under the quilt, swallowing a bit dryly, "I told them – James, Sirius, and Peter, since they _knew_ I was lying about going away – that I wasn't well. They figured everything else out last month."

Both his parents were quiet then, and Remus focused on the wall, "They promised not to tell anyone." He desperately hoped they would keep their word – it hadn't been very long since they'd found out, and he was rather worried that the first time he upset one of them, they might spill everything.

"We'll talk about that later. How is school?" his mother gently changed the subject, but Remus knew she was exchanging significant looks with and probably mouthing things to his father while he kept his eyes on the wall.

"Good," Remus answered, beginning to feel as though he might drift into sleep without warning, "Classes are good…James and Sirius let me borrow their notes, but they can't spell to save their lives…"

His dad chuckled, "That's unfortunate."

Mrs. Lupin let herself relax, looking at her son again, "And Madame Pomfrey is all right?"

"Yes," Remus responded tiredly, hoping that his mother would turn the questions to his father soon, so that he could let himself fall sleep, "She's nice, but I like it here better."

"I know; you've said that before," his mother smiled at him a little.

"It's just…different," Remus yawned, blinking and deciding to keep his eyes closed, though the sun from the window was now warm on his face. He couldn't quite bring himself to say aloud that it was lonely, that he was twelve and a half and still wanted his mum and dad with him when he wasn't well. He wanted the dull, blue-painted basement instead of the shack, and the bathroom with its rose-print wallpaper instead of Madame Pomfrey's treatment room with the pictures from old calendars stuck up all over the place, and the cosy living room instead of a curtained off corner of the impersonal hospital wing.

"Well, it's very good to have you home for a bit," his mother patted his shoulder slowly, stretching her slippered feet out in front of her, "It should be a nice Christmas, I expect…"

Her voice drifted into the sound of pages rustling, and his father reading aloud. After that it was just quiet, with nothing but the warm lights of the Christmas tree, and a few stray snowflakes, and the lingering smell of chocolate from the cooled mug on the end table.

* * *

"…that'll be sore for awhile, but try to lie down and get some sleep," Madame Pomfrey took a moment to tug Remus's sleeves down over the bandages on his arms, the patted his shoulder and made sure his blankets weren't rumpled. She began pulling the privacy curtain closed, "Is there anything you need?"

"No," he shook his head a little as she gave the curtain a final tug and left, the soft tapping of her shoes on the floor fading as she went. He had asked her once – the very first time she'd taken care of him – if she would stay with him, but the nurse had only given him a rather indulgent smile and said that it was quite impossible, since there were several other people who would need her. 'Besides,' she had explained, 'You were brave enough to spend the entire night alone, and you really don't need me here when you should be sleeping, do you?'

She was nice enough, Remus supposed – not everyone would be willing to look after him month after month, and she did try to be gentle and to make sure he was comfortable and well taken care of. But – he glanced at the dull curtains – he did wish that she understood about it being lonely here. These were the times when he wanted most to be home, with the comfy living room and his mum and dad.

He shifted slowly until he was on his side, trying to imagine the cosy, warm feeling of being under the quilt on the couch, the drone of his parents' voices in the background. It was not quite as easy to fall asleep here, but it was certainly not impossible either.

* * *

"…so he told me that they get hold of some sort of disappearing ink in the book, and they write a letter to the aunt with that, but then they write a separate letter in regular ink on the back, so no one suspects anything…"

"But where'd they get the special ink? Was it regular disappearing ink, or something different? Because it would be stupid to use the regular stuff; anyone knows how to make that show up…"

"I don't know; you'll have to ask Remus. It's in his book. He brought a game back with him too, you know. Don't ask him about it."

"Why not? Which is it?"

"Some Muggle thing called Scrabbly or something. He said it would help our spelling."

"Gah, Remus…help our spelling?! Maybe it'll get 'lost'."

Remus pulled himself fully awake to see Sirius sitting cross-legged on the bed, and James sprawled in a dragged in chair, upsetting the curtains. Both of them were still in their pyjamas and dressing gowns, their hair rather mussed.

"Good very early morning!" Sirius grinned broadly, sitting up straight.

James shifted in his chair, "Morning, Remus!"

"What were you saying about my Scrabble game?" Remus struggled to sit up, rather inhibited by the fact that Sirius was pinning down the bedclothes. It struck him that here were James and Sirius in the hospital wing, as opposed to Gryffindor Tower, and he rubbed a hand across his eyes, "What are you doing here?"

"You can't play Scrabbly now, Remus," Sirius said firmly, grinning as James mouthed 'Or ever'. His face then grew more serious for a moment, "We decided we'd keep you company for a little. You had better appreciate it too, since we've gotten up so early. Peter'd be here too, except that we gave up after trying to rouse him twice."

"So tell us what your mum and dad do, so that we can make you go to sleep again and get back to bed ourselves," James smirked, "Pomfrey said we could stay this time, as long as we don't bother you." He rolled his eyes, "As though we would, honestly."

"Oh. Well, thank you," Remus blinked, letting this register, then gave a delayed response to James's question, "They just sit, that's all. Sometimes they read."

"Should've brought some _Mad Martin_ comics," Sirius shook his head, and Remus nearly laughed into his pillow at the idea of that being proper reading material in the morning. "Or our potions text. A paragraph of that would put anyone to sleep."

"Bet Snivellus sleeps with it under his pillow," James sat sideways in his chair now, legs crossed over one of the arms and slippers half falling off of his feet, "Bet the cover's going to decay from all the grease."

"Nah, it'll work as a preservative," Sirius shrugged, glancing to the dull light now filtering through the high windows in the wing, "No breakfast in the Great Hall for at least another hour, James. Do you get a tray, Remus?"

Remus pushed himself up a bit, "If I want it, but I don't, usually…"

"I think you ought to want it this morning," James said earnestly, and Remus realized that his friends meant to make fast work of one if it came. They did indeed half an hour later, gladly munching on slices of toast smeared with jam while Remus drowsily poked at some hot cereal with a spoon. Sirius and James had spent the time complaining about the wing and discussing the dull day of coursework they would have to endure. They occasionally let a few quiet minutes go by between their plans for pranks and contemplations on breakfast, and made sure to remind Remus that they were sorry about his "hellish night" and that he ought to get some more sleep, they would certainly understand.

Sirius finally got up from his place on the bed, and Remus could actually move his feet freely again. "We ought to go; breakfast is soon, and I've got a bit of Charms homework to finish before then."

"For today?" Remus let the spoon slide halfway into the cereal, "Why didn't you finish it earlier?"

"It's only a few problems, Remus. They're easy enough," Sirius rolled his eyes with a grin, "Besides, I knew I'd have time this morning."

"Good toast," James licked a stray blob of jam from the side of his hand while he got up, "Is it nice to have visitors for a change, Remus?"

"Yes," Remus gave both of them a smile, not needing much time to decide that although James and Sirius's company was something almost entirely different than his parents', it was a hundred times better than another solitary morning. For, although they were not really warm and calm and relaxing, they were there because they cared, and that counted for quite a lot.

* * *

Note: I am not British, so I offer my apologies if any of the words or descriptions sound rather American. If anything is glaring and begging to be changed, do let me know!


End file.
